


redshift

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Armitage Hux Being An Asshole, F/M, M/M, Mistakes will be made, Past Childhood Abuse, Past Kylux, Past and present indoctrination, Past questionable relationships, Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Poor Life Choices, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Present finnrey, Present questionable relationships, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: Poe asks Hux to make a choice.But Armitage has never made a choice like this before.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 67
Kudos: 233





	redshift

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no idea what I'm doing here, but I made an offhand comment on twitter about wanting a post-TRoS gingerpilot fic where Poe invited Hux to come with them after the execution malarkey, only to discover _exactly_ how fucked up Armitage really is after leaving behind the endless cycle of abuse and brainwashing he'd been subjected to from birth. A startling amount of people also wanted to see it. So I sat down and banged out this first chapter, and now I present it to you in order to see if anyone still wants it, ha.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who did help me get it to this point, though. This is the first time in over a year I've written this much this quickly, and that alone is a gift I will gladly accept. xxx
> 
> Feel free to come chat to me on twitter [@claricecsorcha](https://twitter.com/claricecsorcha)

Poe had never considered himself clever with split second decisions. It had never stopped him from making them. Even so, he felt this particular decision would likely come back to haunt him in all sorts of ways he couldn’t possibly imagine.

“Come with us.”

Before him, Hux stood very still, expression incredulous in a way that reminded Poe of squadron commanders and flight instructors of old. “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah, what _are_ you talking about?” Finn’s voice, urgent at his shoulder, held no confusion whatsoever. “We gotta get out of here. He’s right, there’s not gonna be much time before the opportunity’s completely shot!”

Chewbecca’s roar of agreement should have settled the matter. And yet, Poe could not look away from the man who stood with palm pressed to doorlock, watching him intently. The man who had destroyed the Hosnian System with a word, who had more than decimated the entire Resistance force in a matter of hours.

The man who had just shot two of his own Stormtroopers to set them free.

“Hugs.” The spasm on his features at least spoke to some reaction, even if it was only rising anger. In Poe’s opinion, anything was better than nothing. “Hugs, come with us. Now.”

The generous lips had thinned to the point where they disappeared almost entirely. “Why in the hells would I do that?”

“ _Poe_!”

Finn’s fingers clasped tight around his upper arm, not yet quite tugging. They both knew that was only a matter of time. Poe still didn’t look away from the First Order general. “Because you’re the spy,” he said, clear echo of the man’s own words. He’d sounded almost surprised when he’d said them. Like he didn’t quite believe it himself.

“If you stay, they’ll kill you.”

“And we have a problem with that _why_?”

Making yet another mistake could only be but fuel to an already raging fire; Poe ignored Finn for this moment, dark eyes on the stiff form of Hux alone. “I’ve been a prisoner to Kylo Ren before. I know what he’ll do to you.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Hux said, sharp. “You really have no idea.” Through even that thick bitterness, there lurked something deeper Poe could not quite read. But Finn had at last begun to move in earnest, pulling on his arm hard enough to hurt. Not a single one of them had any time left at all.

“Well,” Poe said, hopeless and not even understanding why. “See you around, Hugs.”

He only nodded, cold as a distant star system. “Dameron.”

After that, he could not dwell a second on what had almost happened. All hell broke loose around them as they careened down corridors and through blaster fire. The _Steadfast_ had never been a ship Finn had been aboard, but from what little Poe could gather from the shouted instructions and sharp corners, First Order star destroyers had a certain amount of similarity to them. Given the bland monotony of the uniforms of both officers and ‘troopers, Poe could hardly be surprised. Not that he really even had time enough to be grateful.

He was still pulling up the rear as they approached what he prayed was the hangar, Finn shouting back that they were nearly there – that was, if Hux had even told them the correct hangar to hit. Poe didn’t allow himself to think of that, taking cover long enough to push back a fresh cluster of ‘troopers headed their way.

Peripheral, in the distance, he heard Chewbacca’s roar; when he risked a glance backward himself, he saw it, too: the _Falcon_ , welcome light in darkness. Gritting his teeth, Poe turned back to the corridor, hand achingly tight around the stock of the blaster he’d picked up from some fallen unfortunate. A thought flickered sudden, unwelcome across his mind – what if that ‘trooper had been like Finn? What if they’d only needed opportunity, but now lay dead—

“ _POE_!” Finn’s voice rang out across the space between them, loud and clear. “ _We gotta go_!”

With one last round of fire, Poe turned, ran, and didn’t look back. For all he might earn a blaster bolt for the hubris, it didn’t really matter. He’d have gotten it anyway. Clattering up the ramp, he looked again only when he had his hand just above the panel that would close and seal it for flight.

It froze when he saw a lone figure sprinting across the shining floor, something held tight to its chest. Immediately Poe levelled the blaster, eyes narrowing to target; it had to be a suicide run, some fool grunt charging headlong into the ship wearing a vest packed with an inordinate amount of explosive charge.

But as his finger began the trigger-pull, the gleam of golden-red paused him: it shimmered like a crown, so absolutely alien against the endless grey and black of the Order’s aesthetic. Life only returned to him as the man stumbled aboard; his fist hit the panel, landing ramp at last beginning to close.

Hux didn’t look at him, falling to his knees, every breath laboured and fierce. Taking signal from the hull seal, Chewbacca had already begun dust off; Finn would be in one of the gunner’s nests. Poe knew he had a place to be, too, doing what he could to ensure that they stayed airbourne long enough to actually escape.

But he could not stop staring at the unexpected – if invited – passenger before him. Even though he hadn’t yet said a word, Hux raised his head and locked eyes with him in furious glare. It did nothing at all to deter him.

“You…have a lothcat.”

Hux kept the thing bundled close to his chest; even the icy disdain sharpening his gaze couldn’t mask how protective a cradle his arms made. “Shouldn’t you be making yourself _useful_?”

Time indeed ran very, very short. That had never stopped Poe Dameron from running his mouth. “How does a _general of the First Order_ get a lothcat?”

“I found her.” At Poe’s frank disbelief, his shoulders hunched further, voice deeply testy. “When she was a kitten.”

“Amazing,” he muttered, but before anything more choice escaped his lips, the entire ship shuddered. Even as Hux glanced aft, the lothcat’s mouth opened wide, teeth glinting like an orderly rank of freshly-polished knives.

Poe couldn’t look away. “You better not let that thing bite me, Hugs.”

“Call me _Hugs_ , again, Dameron,” Hux hissed, stomping past him in a quickstep too frantic to be quite military, “and I’ll bite you myself.”

Not only was it ridiculous to let Hux lead the way, Poe had to get up front. Shouldering past the man – and feeling the tug of claws _just_ missing anchor in his shirt – he barely kept balance as the entire ship rocked again. Chewbacca was an entirely competent pilot, and Poe trusted the Wookiee implicitly with his life. That didn’t mean that his own skills wouldn’t be necessary to get them out of a tight spot.

And this was a particularly tight spot. The entire ship banked entirely too far port; Poe crashed into the hull, fell to the floor. His knee screamed blue murder as he shoved himself back up, but it seemed little more than shock. What shocked him more was Hux sailing right past him, not sparing him so much as a glance.

By the time Poe stumbled into the cockpit, Hux had already made himself apparently at home. The creature still rested in his arms while hissing at Chewbacca, who appeared to be ignoring it only because Hux was giving quick concise instructions on how to best get out of range of the _Steadfast_ ’s weapons. Throwing himself into his own seat, Poe winced yet again at the ridiculously narrow set of the damn thing. He had no idea how Chewbacca ever fit into any of it.

Outgunned though they undoubtedly were, the _Falcon_ had ever been the stuff of legend. Once again she carried them away from the certain death that might have awaited any other fool adventurer, taking them into the hyperspace jump alone. Leaning back in the seat, Poe felt hyperaware of every muscle, every nerve that made up his entire body. “Right,” he breathed. It didn’t help. “Back to Ajan Kloss, I guess.”

“Oh, so that’s where it is.” Hux had the temerity to sound bored. Even as Poe whipped around, he gave a light shrug. Millicent just gave him an unblinking golden glare even as her master added, completely unnecessarily, “The Resistance base.”

“You’re going to have to give me all your tech, Hugs.” The hiss of the lothcat made him wonder if the species held more sentient intelligence than he’d been led to believe. “Preferably without Fluffy here taking a chunk of me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Her name is Millicent.”

“Her name is—” Clenching his eyes tightly shut, he tried to ignore the white dots that danced there, gave up. “Oh, forget it.” Opening his eyes, thrusting out a hand, he rapped out: “Weapons, General.”

Rolling his eyes, Hux stood up. “Not here.”

Even as Chewbacca gave a warning growl, Poe found his hand reaching for the small blaster not at his hip. It had been confiscated on the _Steadfast_ , and he’d hardly had opportunity to replace it. “Who put you in charge? I didn’t put you in charge!”

“Apparently not.” And yet he managed to march his way through the ship as if leading, stopping only when he reached the common area. Poe found himself wondering how in the hells Hux knew anything about the layout of a Corellian freighter as the man put Millicent down on the seats around the gaming table, then turned to face him once more.

With eyes fixed upon Poe, Hux remained absolutely silent as he unholstered his blaster. For a moment, fear trickled down his spine; he had no assurance that he would not turn it on him now despite the fact he’d had a rifle to all three them but minutes before.

But Hux did no such thing. Instead he set it aside, then moved to divest himself of one, two, _three_ monomolecular blades. Poe eyed first them, then Hux himself, with unbridled suspicion.

“Is that really it?”

He raised his hands, shrugged. “What else do you want?”

“Do you have like, a datapad or something on you, too?”

Even before Poe could see where Hux had been storing the thing, he tossed it aside with less care than he would have suspected from such a fastidious man. Even Millicent appeared disturbed by the clatter, though she then curled up again and gave a put-upon sigh.

“I’m going to have to cuff you.”

“My, my, and only on the first date.” Dry as the words were, Hux immediately sat down beside the lothcat, held his wrists out with the beginnings of some sort of sneer upon his features. Poe took one glance at the creature, who had cracked just one eye, and shook his head.

“Come over here.”

It might have been a mistake, to invite Hux so close while he came up with an old but serviceable pair. Yet the man made no sudden moves, did nothing at all out of order as Poe closed them around his wrists. Only when it was done did he arch an eyebrow.

“So you often take prisoners in here, then?”

He was too tired to argue. “Hux.”

Oddly, it seemed he just might have been, too. Certainly he took his seat without complaint, even as Poe only stared at him. Not that he really _saw_ the man. He wanted only to go to the front. To sit in the pilot’s chair again, to put on his headseat and put his hands on the controls and return to a world he actually _understood_.

“We’ll talk when we get back.”

Hux’s bland smile was the stuff of a thousand holoprops. “I do hope you’ll introduce me to your lovely princess.”

Ignoring him, Poe returned to the front, nodding at Chewie as he took his familiar place. The First Order general would be Leia’s problem soon enough. She would know what best to do with him. She always knew.

*****

Poe did not stand before Leia’s body for long. With heavy footfall, he returned back to the _Falcon_ , alone. Some part of him hoped that Hux had taken the opportunity to escape, or had just got himself shot while trying. Either way, it wouldn’t be Poe having to deal with what he’d done this time.

As fate would unkindly have it, Hux remained sitting where Poe had left him: spine ramrod straight in strong military posture, lothcat purring beside him. He eyed it warily. He hadn’t even been aware that they _could_ purr.

“So.” Lazily Hux crossed one leg over the other, hands still bound together. “When do I get to meet your esteemed leader?”

Only with great difficulty did he push aside the image of her small body beneath the sheet, the sweet scent of incense heavy in the hushed air. The ache in his chest felt like a blaster bolt had lodged there instead of passing through. Like it burned and burned and would never ever stop.

“Not right now,” he said, very rough. The raised eyebrow only made him scowl, folding his arms before his chest. Beneath his shirt he could feel the familiar weight of his mother’s wedding ring, and he swallowed hard, eyelids itchy and tight.

“I’m heading this one,” he said, and Hux just blinked.

“So we’re all doomed, then.”

“Shut up.”

He only smiled, and it never reached his eyes despite the sweetness of the words. “Well, if you insist.”

“Don’t…” Feeling his voice rise, Poe cut himself off, and hard. With a rub of his temples, he shook his head, started over.

How he wished all of this could start over.

“If we’re taking this battle to Exegol, we need all the information we can get. About…” His face creased, lips pursed. “Do they _really_ call it that?”

“The Final Order?” Hux’s own disdainful expression said much for his opinion. Given the nature of the propaganda Poe had seen starring the man, it perhaps said something really rather interesting about the matter. Not that had importance right this moment, not as Hux rolled his eyes and added, “Yes, they really do call it that.”

“I’m never letting anyone ever make fun of Leia’s lack of imagination in calling us _The Resistance_ ever again.”

His eyebrow arched. “You ever let them?”

“Nope.” Energy seemed to be returning to him now, a desperately needed second wind. “But Hugs, seriously—“

“Dameron.”

“…sorry.” It felt weird, saying as much to a genocide. Even if he didn’t really mean it anyway. “ _Hux_. So – the Final Order. I need to know everything _you_ know.”

Leaning back, he uncrossed his legs, shrugged just a little. “That’s actually not that much.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not going to play games now, are you?”

This time he leaned forward: testy, now, though not angry. But Poe could still see that the slender form had begun to tense, shoulders hunching forward despite the military training that had presumably banned every form of the slouch imaginable.

“I didn’t have to come here, Dameron. I could have stayed.”

“Yeah, you could’ve stayed,” he said, waving one hand in sharp dismissal. “And Kylo Ren would have had your head. Neck. Whatever it is he does to traitors in High Command.” Folding his hands before his knees, he added, “And I’m the one who invited you here, remember.”

“Oh, and now I have to pay you for the favour? And here I was, thinking it was entirely out of the goodness of your own heart.”

“You destroyed an entire star system, Hux.” Every word came hard, harsh, and he didn’t do a thing to stop it. “Not sure you deserve a lot of anyone’s heart, let alone mine.”

If he’d expected that shot to hit anywhere remotely on-target, it had been hoped for in vain. “Why so bitter? It wasn’t _your_ star system.”

The red edge of his vision made it exceptionally difficult to do anything but give in to the furious desire to punch him right in the face. But upon that face sat a sneering look – and he could not help the sudden memory of Leia’s exasperated patience. Not only with him – but also with Ben, in those rare days Poe had shared with them both. Even as he bit back his anger, he couldn’t shut out the odd realisation that Hux surely would have had similar experience. Though likely as not he had been aiming for the opposite reaction in Kylo Ren.

“Hux.” Now he spoke very slow, very careful. “You gave us information. Willingly. Without invitation. Without any indication you expected anything in return.”

Infuriatingly polite, he nodded. “I did.”

“So _why_ did you do it?”

“It’s a bit late to be asking now, isn’t it?”

“It’s just a question, Hux.” Exasperation tore at the already frayed edges of his patience. “Is it really that hard to answer?”

He expected more bluster. But it seemed he’d earned himself a scowl, instead. “No, it’s not.” His own sudden venom burned like acid. “The Final Order is the last great force of Emperor Palpatine.”

“You told us that already.”

“ _Shush_.” Poe blinked, felt oddly like a chastised child. Hux went on, undaunted. “That is not what the First Order stood for,” he said, and Poe frowned deeper.

“Wasn’t the First Order established by old Imperials?”

He actually got a wagging finger this time, as well as a teacher’s corrective tone. “Listen to your own wording, Dameron – _old_ Imperials. They were at last learning their lessons, you see.” His expression seemed to fold in upon itself then, strange and shuttered. “As were their children.”

“Hux—”

“The First Order has no patience for the decadent dictatorship of the Empire – nor does it hold with the flawed democracies of the Republics either side of it. Old or new. We forge something new.”

That had the hackles on his neck standing right up. “You’re not forging anything here.”

And oddly, that was where he faltered. “Well, no. I’m not.”

“But you thought…what? That you could just swoop on in from the Unknown Regions and remake the entire galaxy?”

The look he got then held little more than contempt. “The New Republic is a failure. You know that as well as I do.” Thrusting his chin up, he began, “Just let me speak to your General Organa—”

“Not happening.” Hux – of course – opened his mouth to complain; Poe effortlessly rode roughshod over him. “It’s bullshit, though. I’ve seen what the First Order does. You never made life better for everyone. You’re like locusts, descending on worlds and ripping them apart for resources, then leaving them in complete ruin.”

“Only those who would not accept what we offered,” he shot back. “There are many worlds shunned or outright forgotten by the New Republic senate. _They_ were happy to have us come to them and give them a real choice at last.”

“ _What_ choice?” he demanded, this time not giving a damn how loud his voice became. “Obey, or be destroyed?”

Under his shout, Hux gave only a thin smile. “What choice is it, when death is inevitable anyway?”

He hadn’t even realised how close he’d come, looming over him despite the fact Hux was easily half a foot taller when standing. Backing off only a little, Poe crossed his arms again, gritted his teeth. “How old were you. When this started.”

Hux frowned. “When what started?”

“The Order.”

“I was six at the Battle of Jakku.”

Even as something inside of him recoiled at the thought – _six!_ – Poe shuddered at his own memory of the damned sand planet. Of the village. The slaughter. The second landing he’d made there, choking on sand and blood as he’d crawled out of the ejection pod.

“So you made your choice then.”

Scoffing, Hux made to fold his hands together, scowled at the cuffs that prevented it. “What do you think?” he sneered. “The only person who has ever given me any real choice is _you_.”

And he became very still. “…what?”

Though Hux looked entirely regretful of his words, at least he did not back down from what was already said. “I’m not an idiot, Dameron,” he said, scathing and sure. “I am – _was_ – head of the Stormtrooper programme.” An indistinct look moved across those mobile features, then. So strange, how one moment they could be so utterly still, then almost over-exaggerated but a moment later. “Or at least, I was before that fool Ren took it from me. But do you know who gave it to me in the first place?”

“No.”

His gaze had turned very penetrating, and very blue. “My father. Brendol Hux. The original progenitor.” When he leaned back, his eyes seemed to return to a darker shade of grey-green. “I was taught how it worked from childhood. It’s an indoctrination programme. Very thorough, and all-encompassing.” Shaking his head, his gaze fixed elsewhere. Somewhere far away from where he sat now. “But I was considered a prodigy. I was quite aware that I myself was being indoctrinated even as I learned to do the same to others.”

“…then you knew it was wrong.”

“I only knew what was right,” he corrected. “And now? I know only what I see as wrong.”

Poe took a deep breath, let it out slow. “The Final Order,” he said, flat. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“And so, I will destroy it.” The smile he wore now could destroy worlds. “By any means necessary.”

For a second Poe looked only at his hands, white knuckled where they gripped his own forearms. Only when they had relaxed the minutest bit could he look again at Armitage Hux.

“You can’t go back to the First Order. You must know that.”

Raising his hands, he expanded his fingers as wide as the cuffs would permit. “Sacrifices must be made,” he said, even and unmoved. “I’ve served my purpose, perhaps. But as long as I protect what I believe in, then I have done what I can.”

Almost in wonder, Poe said only, “You’re mad.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to say so.”

Possibly, he might be the last. But he kept that thought to himself. “And you…what? Expect us to…execute you? When all this is done?”

“It’s what I would do.” He had complete mastery over his facial expression, now. “And if you lose, Kylo Ren will do the same, besides. You are right about that.”

“Then what kind of choice was it, really?”

“Good question.”

His head ached. Closing his eyes, feeling the itch of saltwater, Poe gritted his teeth, breathed deep again. The grief of Leia’s loss felt like a tide; it had withdrawn long enough for this conversation, but already it threatened inevitable return. This was not his place. He could not make this call.

His eyes were still closed when he murmured, “We’re nothing like you, Hux.”

“And that’s exactly why I made the choice that I did.” When he glanced over in surprise, Hux snorted. “Are we done here?”

“You haven’t given me the information I need.”

He actually shrugged, the bastard. “We can work on that.”

“Do you always make everything this difficult?”

“After six years of working with Kylo Ren, Commander Dameron, this is actually quite a pleasant conversation.”

“More pity you,” he said without thinking. Hux only shook his head, shifted in his seat.

“I have code cylinders with me.” Poe couldn’t imagine where, though he still suspected Hux had knives on him somewhere, besides.

“They’ll get access to a great deal of information, though likely not all that you need.”

“So why don’t you have access to everything?”

Another spasm of unspoken emotion shifted across Hux’s features, though as before, it settled quickly. He now seemed to wear only a kind of resignation, though he suspected Hux wouldn’t have quite called it such. “Does anyone have access to all information under any circumstance, Commander Dameron?”

“General.” He hated it already. “And I guess not, but you’re – what? Ren’s righthand man?”

“I was never anything of the sort. Even under Snoke himself.” The bitterness burned bright now. “After what happened on Batuu, Ren made sure I had little of my old influence. It was all Pryde, by that point.” Sensing Poe’s confusion, he added with clear heat, “Allegiant General Enric Pryde. The oldest of the old Imperials. If he’d been the one to turn, he’d have been far more useful to you than myself.” He paused, chuckled as if at some private sour joke. “But he’s Palpatine’s man, through and through. He’ll give you nothing.”

“But you’ve given us something.”

Turning his head, he pursed his lips again. “Don’t remind me.”

“But I will.” Stomach already churning at the thought, he said with more confidence than he felt, “We’ll go to the navi set up, use what we can to plan the assault.”

The pity came from him, this time. “Do you really think this is going to work?” Before Poe could answer, he added, “You don’t understand the sheer mass of the force you’re up against. There’s not enough of you to stop it.” A pause, and he closed his eyes, actually flopped back into the seat. “I can’t believe I’ve done this. You’re all going to die.”

“And yet, you came with us.”

“Just dragging it out longer, I suppose.” Standing, as if he were the one calling the shots, Hux nodded sharply. Poe supposed after all the years he’d spent in his position, it could hardly be a surprise. “Shall we, then?”

“How can I trust you?”

“You can’t.” And he nodded in the direction of the _Falcon_ ’s boarding ramp. “Are you coming?”

Leia had been so _small_ beneath her shroud. And now the weight of all she’d ever wished for rested heavy upon his shoulders alone. Before him stood, too, the thin dark shadow of a past she’d tried so hard to keep there: yet perhaps no one else had ever understood better that the past was not to be learned from, only mimicked and mocked over and over and over again.

“No,” he said, quiet, aloud. “No, she had hope.”

A raised eyebrow, and a frown. “Dameron?”

He nodded, firm. “I’m coming.”

*****

When all was said and done – the strangest part was the odd _quiet_ of it. Not physically, perhaps; when he returned to base, the celebration had already begun in cacophony and chaos. Still he felt somehow separate from it, even before D’Acy had given him the news. There had been a reunion with Finn; even through their fierce embrace, his mind had wandered clearly elsewhere. Rey was alive, he said. He knew that. He _knew_ it. But he would not believe until he saw it with his own eyes.

For his part, Poe would not believe that Leia had truly gone until he stood before where she had lain in such small state. It seemed so unfair. It was true all the same: her tiny frame, disappeared beneath the shroud she had worn with the regal poise of a woman born to be princess and senator and general. A woman who had become a mother, and remained so until her last moments.

Kneeling at the side of her bier, Poe took his moment alone. She had gone even more completely than before – but it was as though he could sense her yet. He had no real understanding of the Force. It didn’t seem to matter. With eyes closed, he could be close to her. Could remember her smile, as precious as the advice and teachings she’d given him so freely, even if he’d not always been sensible enough to take any and all of it.

There was no sense of time as he lingered. He could not even be sure that he hadn’t slept, sheer exhaustion taking him under. But even if he had slept, it had not been well. There was much to do, places he should be. But with the adrenaline long worn off, his whole body had seized, curled up on the ground.

Opening them only made his eyes ache. He would never forget the _light_ – and endless ships before it, fallen beneath the force of a galaxy reunited. Much as he’d been focused upon the aerial engagements above, he had still clearly seen destroyer after destroyer disappearing into the black oceans of cursed Exegol. Even then, he had not seen it all. Others still worked there. He could not ignore it for long. He would have to co-ordinate. Would have to give orders. Would have to—

“Check on Hux,” he muttered, shaking his head. Raising it from where his cheek rested upon the soft shimmersilk, he allowed himself a frank and lopsided grin. He could just imagine the shake of her head, the piercing dark gaze upon him as she read him as easily as any opened book.

“So, did I make a mistake? Bringing him here?”

Leia said nothing. And Poe let his eyes fall closed again, sighed.

“Mistake or not, I still did it.” In a way, he could almost hear her laughing at him still. “And yeah, I know you’d expect me to clean up my own mess. So I will.”

But he did not rise, not yet. He wanted this – just a moment longer in the last place she had been. The place where her memory, for now, would be at its strongest.

Before he spared another thought for the erstwhile general, Poe returned to central command, to both joy and the constant drag of questions with answers he doubted he would ever have. Yet, when it seemed to reach its height: she returned: _Rey_. As both he and Finn held her close, she felt small and slim and so _powerful_ in their arms.

There, Poe believed that perhaps peace really could follow war.

It seemed an age before he remembered that he would have to see Hux again. Rising again, the weariness felt slightly less than before. He put that down to Rey, who stood so close to Finn and smiled and smiled and never stopped.

He’d kept Hux aside, in the company of slicers and other information specialists who worked to provide real-time information to those in command. Rose had been in the installation originally, though she was not now. He would have to go find her, apologise. She’d looked as though he’d slapped her, when he’d hauled Hux in and announced his status.

The man himself sat with them still, hands in his lap with the cuffs around slim wrists, looking for all the world like a man watching the progress of his own army. Poe sighed to see it. He’d had had him change out of the uniform first, not wanting to incite further ill feeling against him. It seemed the effort had been entirely wasted.

Strangely, Hux glanced over to him first. “Ah. The conqueror returns.”

“Yeah, bad news for you, I guess.” Even as one of the other specialists opened her mouth, Poe held up a hand, and held Hux’s steady gaze. “We won.”

“So I deduce.” Again, that lazy look as he shifted his weight, hooked one ankle over the other. “Shall we go outside and have me shot now, or do you want to do it later?”

“I’ll do it right here if you’ll let me,” growled Angon; Poe glanced over, saw the man had shifted one hand to his blaster. Drawing a breath through his nose, he blew it out, spoke tightly.

“No one’s getting shot.” Even as Angon scowled deeper, he added, “He didn’t have to do this.”

“Like that matters to the Hosnian System.”

Poe closed his eyes. Fadras Angon had been a botanist, before. Usually his face was open, kind. So many things had changed. Or perhaps it was only because nothing ever changed at all. 

Opening his eyes, Poe levelled a cool gaze on the major. “I’ll take him from here. If you need anything more from him, comm me.” Then, sweeping his gaze over the entire makeshift room, “And I don’t need to tell you that his presence here is still classified, do I?”

Despite assent, Poe could feel their collective gaze heavy upon them as they left. “Seems I’m lucky they didn’t just murder you while I was out.”

“Seems so,” Hux drawled, apparently unmoved. “And here I thought I was such charming company.”

Rolling his eyes, Poe kept walking. Leaving the bustle and noise behind, he stopped only when they came before a small hut. Despite the cramped confines of the jungle-set base, it had been situated in such a way that most of the noise was filtered by thick foliage, leaving the place with at least some illusion of privacy.

“Right, this is us.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “This is…what?”

“Where I’m going to keep you, for the meantime.”

“What _is_ this?” he repeated, stepping forward to first peer at the door, and then inch it open with one foot. He still wore the sleek boots of his uniform, though the damp underfoot had begun to take some of the sheen from them. “Ah, I see. Your personal shack.”

Poe really did wish he could just kick him. “Something like that.”

Turning around, hands still bound before his hips, Hux gave him a nasty grin. “So you’re keeping me in your bed, then?” A pause, and then he added with mock surprise, “I didn’t realise the Resistance were into that kind of ‘prize of war’ thinking.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Poe replied, more tired than angry. “I mean, I know it’s probably reflex with you at this point, but.”

“Well. If you insist.” Suddenly alert in a whole new way, Hux fixed an intense look upon him. “Where’s Millie?”

“She’s in there already,” he said. “Made herself quite at home.”

“I hope she shredded something you really liked.”

“If not, I trust you’ll get around to it soon enough,” he replied, perfectly dry as he stepped forward. As he motioned, Hux lifted his hands; he set about removing the cuffs, hooking them to his belt when he was done.

Hux, naturally, began to rub his wrists in exaggerated fashion. “Better,” he granted. “But I would appreciate it if you’ll get me some guards that won’t be inclined to smother me in the night.”

For someone so sure of his own death not hours before, it almost seemed an odd request. But, Poe thought wearily, it really had been a far weirder day in general. “I’ll get you some nice droids, all right?”

“I always did appreciate a good droid.”

For a long moment, nothing else was said. Poe gave in first. He really did not have time for this, though he supposed Hux had nothing but. “Don’t you want to know how it ended?”

Snorting, he turned as if to enter the small private hut. It did, at least, have ambient temperate control. “Does it matter?”

“Rey did it.”

That did make him stop. But given the long moment he took to compose himself before turning lazily back, Poe never did know what expression had caused his shoulders to first stiffen the way they had. “She is quite the remarkable creature, isn’t she.”

“She said Kylo Ren helped her defeat Palpatine,” he said, very even. “That the Emperor is dead.”

The calm with which he raised an eyebrow could be nothing but entirely feigned. “That didn’t appear to stop him last time.”

“Well, I believe her.” He didn’t bother to blunt the edge of anger to his words. “And I believe Finn.”

“FN-2187?”

“ _Finn_.” He knew Hux was goading him. It didn’t help. “He said…” And he closed his eyes. Remembered the haunted look on Finn’s face, when he’d spoken of her. “He said he felt something in the Force.”

“Oh, so he _is_.”

His eyes popped open. “What?”

“He’s Force sensitive,” Hux said, slow and exaggerated. “Ren always did bleat on about seeking it out amongst the ranks, though Snoke would never permit it.” And he snorted. “Not to mention what little data we had suggested that the odds of finding it in any great concentration in any particular individual was exceedingly rare, besides.”

“Data?”

“I never really knew much about it.” He glanced down; Poe followed his gaze, saw that Millicent had emerged, was twisting herself around his ankles. “Besides, Snoke is dead. What does it matter now?”

 _It matters to Finn_ , he thought, but didn’t bother saying as much out loud. Hux seemed to care even less.

“So, what happened to our reformed prodigal son, then?” He chuckled darkly, utterly without humour. “Presumably he’s reformed, if he’s out there assassinating his beloved grandfather’s former master.”

“You’re not reformed.” Even his harsh clear couldn’t deter him now. “But she didn’t say.”

Frank disbelief held him stock still. Millicent gave a soft trill, as if disturbed; only then did Hux seem to shake himself from his strange reverie. “What?”

“She wanted to talk to Finn about it. Before me.” That stung, as if Finn had belonged to him first -- when Rey and Finn would never have met at all, had it not been for Poe Dameron.

But then, Poe likely would never have lived to meet either of them had Finn not approached him back on the _Finalizer_ all those days ago.

“She said we were safe. That’s enough for me, for now.” And he pushed his hand back through his hair, grimaced at the sweat gathering there. “I guess she meant you too, she knows you’re here.”

“How kind of her.” Yet any sign of sarcasm disappeared beneath his sudden bleakness. “He must be dead.”

That had him frowning. From everything Hux had said, he ought to have been dancing for joy, now that Kylo Ren was gone. Not that he could imagine Hux _dancing_. “Well, she _could_ be hiding him around here somewhere, I suppose. Like, _I’ve_ got a First Order general just stashed away, myself.”

“Everyone _knows_ I’m here,” he snapped back, though both of them knew that wasn’t entirely true. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be true. Poe had no doubt tongues wagged and ears pricked up all over the base.

“Besides, she came back on an old X-Wing. I can’t imagine that massive oaf Ren squeezing into a droid plug.” Poe frowned, wondering how in the hells he’d come across that information even as Hux went on. “I had to retrofit that Silencer around him, you know. Sienar Jaemus could not _believe_ my specs, said it would throw off the integrity of the entire flight frame. Well, you can be assured that I gave them what for—”

He stopped dead, eyes darting sideways as his voice died away. There was something there that Poe could not identify. He wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to. But still it disturbed him, to see Hux staring into the distance as if at an entire auditorium of ghosts.

“Damn them all, besides,” he muttered, more to himself than to Poe. “They must have been the ones who constructed the starships for Palpatine. Kuat-Entralla and Sienar Jaenus both. And yet they never…”

There had always been a lot of propaganda about the leading figures of the First Order. Poe had seen enough centred around Hux to know that they said the man was an engineering genius, that he had personally overseen the continued construction of Starkiller Base using principles of quantum quintessence physics. That he had developed the hyperspace tracking that had almost brought the Resistance to its knees. It shouldn’t seem odd that the man apparently really _did_ know something about the manufacture of starships. And yet.

“Well,” he said, very quiet. He didn’t know what else to say. Hux didn’t appear to care. Using his comms unit, Poe called for a couple of bulky maintenance droids that could be repurposed for guard duty. BB-8 would accompany them, help make sure that they were programmed in such a way that his – _the_ – prisoner would stay put. He could only hope his people would not want to take justice into their own hands.

As he took Hux inside, Poe cast a careful eye around. Surely there was nothing much that Hux could do in here. Despite having his own private quarters, they shifted around enough that it wasn’t as though he had much time or inclination to personalise the place. But thinking of his words about the engineering companies, Poe collected up what few bits and pieces might be used to nefarious ends.

“You really don’t trust me.”

He glanced over to where Hux had seated himself on his bed, stroking the lothcat. She stared at him with lazy golden eyes, tail twitching in slow back and forth. For not the first time Poe wondered how far they could pounce.

“Would you?” he said at last, and Hux just snorted.

“Not in the slightest.”

He didn’t have much else to say to that, either, but the welcome beep of BB-8 outside meant he didn’t have to worry himself over it. “I have to go.”

“Enjoy your party, Commander.”

Stepping outside, into the heat, Poe gladly knelt down to greet his friend. And then, task completed – at least for now – he walked away.

*****

He couldn’t be surprised they weren’t at the heart of the celebration, but he also could not help the hurt of it. He found just the two of them together, seated in the shadow of the _Falcon_. Rey leaned her head on Finn’s shoulder in a companionable silence that seemed a thousand lightyears removed from the celebration everywhere else.

As he walked over to them, he couldn’t help but feel strangely distant the closer he came. Rey still smiled as he approached, and Finn raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, quiet; already Rey motioned for him to sit at her side. After only a second’s hesitation, he did.

“How’s BB-8?”

“Beebee’s Beebee,” he said, and for not the first time regretted not spending more time with the droid. He’d always been Poe’s happy place. “But…how are you guys?”

They exchanged a look, quick and unspoken. Rey looked back to him first. “Tired,” she said, and seemed to speak for them both. But as her eyes sought out his, Rey’s expression turned soft. “We talked, a bit.”

There were so many questions he could ask. He had no idea where to begin. Even though he didn’t particularly want to discuss the matter, Finn’s question at least meant he didn’t have to ask one of his own.

“What did you do with Hux?”

“Left him in my bed,” he answered without thinking. Then, he frowned, voice rising in sudden panic. “Wait—”

Rey waved him off, grin genuine and wide. “Is Beebee with him?”

“No, I got him to set up another couple of droids to watch him.” Shifting beside her, he braced his knees apart, leaned forward between them, stared fiercely at the ground. It probably knew what to do better than he did. “I don’t know that he’s going to go anywhere, but…”

“Why did he even help us?” Glancing up, Poe found Finn looking to him with something close to actual curiosity, without the usual anger that tinged most of his words about Hux. “That’s the bit I don’t get.”

“Because even though he was a kid of the Empire, that’s not what he grew up to want.” Even as Finn frowned Poe sat up straighter, sighed. “At least, that’s the impression he gave me. Who the hell knows, he could just be lying. Could be on his way out right now, looking for whatever remains of the First Order so he can take it back and start over again.”

Rey’s words came very quiet. “Start over again?”

“As a mad fascist dictator, or whatever it was he was doing.” Rubbing his eyes, he cleared his throat, spoke rough and low. “I wish Leia were here.”

The silence that followed felt too empty, too large. Poe wondered why she had left them now.

“I do, too.” Rey’s whispered words held less of the despair of his own thoughts. For that, he would always envy her. “But she did what she had to.”

He turned sharp to her. “What do you mean?”

She did not answer immediately – rather, she shared look with Finn, long and wordless for all it seemed a deep conversation. Watching it, he felt his stomach twist, the way it had the very first time he’d ever broken atmo in his own ship. And then she looked back, her eyes soft. His eyes focused on where their hands laced together, even as she reached over and took his too.

Her callused grip was very strong, and very warm. “He helped me.” At his furrowed brow, she added, “Ben.”

It sent a shiver through him. “Ben Solo is dead.”

“Maybe. I don’t really know. I’d never met him, before.”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he could hear children laughing. “I had.”

“I know.” She shifted her own weight, and he could see where she gripped Finn’s hand tighter. Where he echoed the motion, easy and sure. “But I don’t know what Master Leia did, not exactly. Whatever it was…it called to him.”

Poe felt very cold. “What do you mean?”

“He helped me defeat Palpatine.” Her honesty had always been such a simple, shining thing. “I couldn’t have done it without him.”

And he looked down again to the dirt between his boots. Even as he watched the slow march of a fat beetle, he saw only the memory of the battle over Exegol. And he knew that none of it could have been possible, without the assistance of Armitage Hux.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes.” Beside her, Finn sighed. “He gave too much of himself.”

Leia had been so small upon her bier. So much smaller than she’d ever been in life. And Poe wondered how much of himself Ben Solo had given at all. “Hux said that he thought he was.”

That had her frowning. “How did he know?”

Poe only shrugged. “I don’t know. Guess he’d spent enough time around the guy to know he wouldn’t give up that easily.”

“Like he gave up, you mean?”

Glancing to Finn, Poe said nothing to the harshness of his tone. He had every reason to hate him. And he would never escape the memory of the betrayal in Rose’s eyes, when he had foisted the man responsible for the destruction of her homeworld upon her, and said they had to work together.

Rey’s eyes upon him were silent in their knowing.

“I really don’t know what to do about him. Or about _any_ of this.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Poe spread his hands, let them fall back to his knees. “I know Leia had been in contact with the remnants of the New Republic government, and I guess this is all going to end up going through them. I just wish…”

“What do you wish, Poe?”

For a long moment, he only looked at them both. And they looked back at him, together. The thought came sudden, almost sad. “Are you going to become a Jedi now, Finn?”

He answered with a bark of laughter: abrupt, genuinely surprised. “Yeah, I doubt it. I’m too old.”

“No, you’re not.” Rey’s voice remained soft, and so very sure. “But you can be anything you want now, Finn.”

Now they looked only to each other. Standing, he shifted, more than a little awkward. “I should…go check on him.”

They spoke together, almost as one. “Be careful.”

As he moved away, Poe reflected that it was entirely possible they were all beyond that, these days.

*****

“What are you doing here?” And, without waiting for an answer, Hux added, “Why aren’t you out there, celebrating?”

Perhaps it had been somewhat cruel to leave him here, alone; much as it could hardly be called a cell – and he would deserve one – even this thick jungle couldn’t keep out the sound of distant festivities. And here he sat here, utterly alone save for his lothcat, abandoned like an unwanted child on the footstep of some uncaring orphanage.

Poe threw himself down at his side – too close, if Hux’s grimace proved enough to go by – but he only shrugged, leaned back into the wall. “Tried my luck out there, but there were no takers. Decided to come chance it with you, considering you a bit more of a…captive audience. Or something.”

Hux folded one leg beneath him, resumed dangling what could only be one of Poe’s own socks in front of Millicent’s face. “I refuse to believe no-one wants a piece of the great grand hero of the Resistance, _General_ Poe Dameron.”

He watched the lothcat with a certain kind of resignation; it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to holes, anyway. “What, is that a yes, then?”

“I’ve never felt less like having sex in my life.”

In truth, Poe felt the same way. There was something to be said for joking about it though, even if it was with the war criminal bunked in his own bed. “Bet you could use a drink, though.”

He only snorted, again; Poe figured that for an actual yes. Ducking out, he proceeded again past the droids on watch, and made his way to one of the tables set up to deliver some terribly potent beverages that he didn’t want to consider the origins of. His progress was slowed somewhat by back-slapping, hugs, shouts, beginnings of drunken ramblings. While it did take him some time to get back, Hux’s blatant surprise at his return very nearly hurt.

“Here you go. Drink up, before it gets warm.”

Hux accepted it with furrowed brow, and with apparent trepidation took a sip. Immediately his face creased in disgust, then paused as he appeared to consider it. Swirling the contents of the glass, he frowned deeper. Then, he downed the lot.

“Whoa, slow down there, Hugs.”

“If it’s the only way I get some sleep, then this is how I get some sleep.”

Poe shook his head, took a more modest sip of his own serving as he dropped down to the floor. “I should have found you something to eat.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.” Poe only hmmed, and let the quiet sit between them. As they did so, Millicent gave up on Hux resuming his play with the sock, and curled up on his pillow and began that odd purring again. Poe frowned, but said nothing.

“Did you speak to her again?”

He glanced over, slouched down though he was. “What?”

“The scavenger.”

“Her name is Rey.”

“ _Rey_ , then.” That testiness had returned. He really should have got him the pitcher instead of just a glass. “Did you speak to her?”

Shifting his gaze to the ceiling, Poe took a long slug, sighed. “She said that Kylo Ren is dead.”

The heaviness in the air felt fit to cut with a knife. Poe hoped he didn’t have a knife. And Hux released a long, slow breath.

“You’re safe,” he said, even though he knew nothing of the sort. From Hux’s scoffing not-laugh, he knew as much himself.

“Am I, really.”

“I…” It had been a foolish thing to say. But he was tired. His head ached. He wanted nothing so much as to go over to the cot where Hux sat, push the lothcat off his pillow, and fall asleep for a thousand years.

He stood, finished his drink. “I better go check in again. With command. See what’s happening.”

“Don’t you need to sleep at some point?”

“Yeah. Probably.” He rubbed his head. “I’ll work something out.”

His eyes gleamed dark in the shadows. “I’m your prisoner, Dameron. Not your guest. You can make me sleep on the floor.” His mouth curled, though it was nothing near a smile. “I’ve had worse.”

Poe looked away, unsettled. “I’ve got to go.” He glanced back. “Don’t try to escape.”

“Where would I go?”

It was a good question. He doubted either of them wanted its answer tonight.

*****

The morning dawned, and anyone still awake stopped to watch. Amongst them, Poe mirrored their silence, heart aching. Given how many systems they’d skipped, it likely shouldn’t have meant much. It still meant everything.

Exhaustion dogged his every step as he went once again to make sure Hux hadn’t done anything ridiculous. Even as he approached, he could tell the man had already risen. It possibly was not that surprising given the man apparently had lived his entire life in a military junta. It still felt slightly odd. And not just because it sounded like the man was talking to his lothcat.

Pausing just outside, Poe considered how best to announce his presence. It seemed weird to knock on his own door. “Hugs?”

The murmuring ceased, then resumed with something that likely was a curse, though not in a language Poe was personally familiar with. Then, all fell silent. He was about to speak again when a very put upon sigh emerged. “Come in.”

The room appeared almost painfully neat. Not that there was really a great deal to mess up, but Poe still narrowed his eyes as he swept them around the room.

“Hey, Hugs.”

Scowling, standing with arms folded just before the bed, Hux nodded in tight acknowledgement. “Dameron. I wanted to speak with you.”

“Well, it’s not like you have a lot of options, but whatever.”

The withering look that earned him had probably made more than one junior officer cry. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh?”

“I hear there was rather a large shipment of eggs and dairy in the night. Amongst other things.” He straightened his spine, though Poe couldn’t work out how he could do so even more than it already had been. “I was wondering if you might be able to…procure me some. Along with some sugar.”

“I – what?”

Hux frowned. “Do I really need to repeat myself?”

Though he didn’t doubt he’d caught some moments of sleep in the smallest hours of the morning, Poe wondered how sleep deprived a person had to be before they started hallucinating. “How do you even _know_ that?” He said nothing. “Hugs.” At the glare, he relented. “ _Hux_. Come on.”

His lips pressed tight together; this was not a man used to being questioned. Not that Poe gave a damn.

Oddly, Hux was the one to relent first. “Millie caught a droid.”

“Millie caught a—”

“It was carrying information.”

Flat, he stared him square in the eye. “And you helped yourself to it.”

“It was only stock intake information.”

“Only stock—” A sigh, and Poe gave up. “Where’s the droid? And is it repairable?”

“Millie didn’t damage it,” Hux replied, sounding perfectly affronted by Poe’s assumption that she would. “Dio is right over there.”

Dreading to suppose what he might see, Poe followed Hux’s pointed finger to find Millicent instead, though the golden body appeared to be curled around—

“D-0!”

“Exactly.” Exasperated now, Hux moved over, dropped to one knee to pass a gentle hand over her rounded head. “She wouldn’t hurt a droid.”

Eyeing the creature warily, Poe wondered at the foolishness of anyone who would dare get so close to her teeth. “As opposed to, say, a pilot?”

“She chases – _chased_ – mouse droids around the _Finalizer_. She was always quite aware that I wouldn’t stand for her harming them in any way.” He rose again, dusted off the borrowed clothing as though it were a pristine uniform. “And you’re something more than a mere pilot, Dameron.”

“Well, okay then,” he said, slightly nonplussed. “Would she bite a general?”

“I was a general, you idiot.”

“She’s still going to bite me, isn’t she.”

The glint in his eyes didn’t feel friendly. “It’s simple. Just don’t give her reason to.”

“I’m not convinced that she _needs_ reason,” he muttered, and shook his head. “Why do you want all that stuff, anyway?”

The pause stretched long, Hux’s face tight with tangled thoughts. It was somehow difficult for him to say it aloud, though Poe could hardly imagine why.

“I wanted to make some sweet custard.”

Now he really did think he was hallucinating. “What?”

“Sweet custard.” A slow but steady flush had begun to creep up from his collar. “It’s…sometimes eaten in celebrations.”

Incredulous, now, Poe let his voice creep up. “ _You_ want to celebrate?”

“Look, if you don’t want—”

“No, no, Hugs, I just…” Shaking his head again, he sighed. “It was unexpected.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t think you could cook.” At Hux’s sudden outraged glare, he couldn’t help but laugh. It felt surprisingly light. “Unless you’re expecting someone else to do it.”

“No, I will do it myself.” Then, he tilted his chin high again. “And certainly I’ll share it with you.” His lips twitched. “The unpoisoned portion, of course. If you insist, anyway.”

Wordless, Poe just threw his hands in the air. Having nothing to say was hardly a common situation for him. But he supposed this was an entirely new situation for all of them.

It took very little wrangling to acquire what he wanted; the quartermaster certainly had little reason to question the acting general, and Poe hadn’t bothered offering any explanation. He almost felt relief to be where he was now: in the relative quiet before his cabin, while Hux worked diligent over the small fire he had cultivated. Poe let himself drowse, even as he wondered how effective the droids would be if Hux suddenly decided to smash his face into the ashes.

“Dameron.” A foot jiggled his own, and he opened his eyes. There he found Hux holding a bowl of some faintly yellow confection, spoon pressed into its warmth. As he inclined it to him, he only shook his head. Hux’s expression shifted, but was again unreadable. Still, he seemed content to keep the peace as he sat down on a log Poe had pulled up for such purpose, blowing on a spoonful with odd prissy delicacy before putting it into his mouth.

Through lowered eyelashes, Poe watched as if dreaming. He didn’t even see the child approach. Hux, however, apparently had seen her passing.

“Would you like to try some?”

She paused with her armful of laundry, blinking her dark eyes. “Can I?”

“Yes, but you must be careful. It’s still quite hot.”

As she came closer, Hux took the basket from her small hands before fishing out another spoon. She dipped it in, brought it to her lips with faint hesitation – and then the little face lit up like the world on fire.

“It’s delicious!”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it.” Poe could sense no bragging in his tone, only – truth. “What’s your name?”

“Ilyna.” Dipping her spoon again, she spoke around her next mouthful. “I’m from Hays Minor. What’s your name?”

A shadow shifted across his sharp features. But it lingered only a moment, and Ilyna seemed unperturbed by it. “I’m Armie.”

“ _Armie_.” Pausing a moment in her feast to contemplate it, she soon shrugged and returned to the food. “That’s a weird name.”

“Yes, well, I’m from Arkanis. A lot of us had names we didn’t really care for.” Tilting the empty bowl, Hux looked over to the low fire. “Would you like some more, then?”

“Sure!” Sitting down beside him in the graceless, easy fashion of childhood, she peered over to the waterbath Hux had set over the flame. “Did you make it?”

“I certainly did.”

“Can you teach me?” She beamed up at him as he settled down again, shifting so he could easily hold the bowl between them. “I like making things,” she added, taking another hearty helping.

“Do you?” His own spoonful was slower, more thoughtful. “So do I. Though usually I prefer to build things. Droids, ships, the like.”

The child actually paused, wide-eyed. “You build _ships_?”

“Upon occasion, yes.” As Hux delicately licked his own spoon, Poe really did wonder if he was going mad. “Have you ever built a ship?”

Her laughter came bright, and with a little swat at his arm. “No! Silly. I’m only six.”

“When I was six, I helped a droid repair a freighter.” He spoke gravely. “You can do whatever you put your mind to, Ilyna.”

In wake of his serious tone she appeared to think about this, lips pursed, looking into the bowl of custard. After this long consideration she took one bite, then another. Only then did she look. “I bet there’s lots of stuff around here you could fix.”

He took an airy bite of his own. “I would assume so.”

“Maybe you could teach me.” Then, before he could say a word, “ _After_ you teach me how to make this custard.”

“So I’m teaching you, then?”

“Well, what else are you going to do?” she asked with the perfect logic of a six year old child. Hux only nodded, looked down to the nearly empty bowl again.

“What, indeed,” he murmured. Then he looked up sharply, as if finally sensing the eyes that had been upon him all along. His voice had turned hard, very nearly ugly.

“What are you looking at Dameron?”

“I don’t know.” And he meant it honestly enough. But he shifted his attention to the sky instead, and sighed. With dawn long gone, early haze burned away, its colour had become clear and blue. In the distance, he could hear that the camp had also awoken, its peoples still alive. Still fighting. Still laughing. Still _living_.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

It did not change the fact at all that not a one knew where it would take them.


End file.
